


His Best Fabrikator - Her Harmless Durast

by Smiling_Penelope



Category: The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: At one point he compares his emotions to a burette, But also a healthy dose of fluff, Canon Compliant, David thinks about metal A LOT, F/M, Less so even than in the books- but the tigger warning is still there, Lots of musings on morality and consequences, Rape/Non-con is alluded to but is not graphic or descriptive, SCIENCE!, What else would he think about though? Honestly.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 09:16:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13232682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smiling_Penelope/pseuds/Smiling_Penelope
Summary: What of the boy who sits alone with his knowledge? He creates things with his hands that, although he never uses, are used against others. He notices more around him than others give him credit for, yet he still does not notice enough. He stands in the background, but he is always a part of the pivotal points of war."David's crime was hunger for knowledge, not power."A vignette style sort of character study of David Kostyk: who he is, what he does, how he loves.





	His Best Fabrikator - Her Harmless Durast

David’s attention has never been good. Or at least, not in the way that matters to other people. He sits at his workbench and the day flows around him, unnoticed even as it grows dark and he has need to light a candle. People talk, but unless they say his name sharply he assumes that they aren’t talking to him. Sometimes he forgets to eat, sustaining himself only on tea that has long gone cold. His workbench is more familiar to him than his pillow or bed and there have been spans of days where he has neglected them altogether.

David’s attention has always been good. He asks himself a question and it is all he cares about until he can find its solution. He can pick apart theorems, equations, and systems for hours on end without his brain tiring. There is nothing that can truly distract him from those things. Even when his body finally demands that its needs be met, David at least continues to think. His hands may stop turning the pages the pencil finally rested on the table, but there is no end to the workings of his mind.

He divides his world into three categories: things he understands, things that are worth understanding, and things that aren’t worth understanding. But with closer examination it is apparent that the three categories can actually be simplified to two: science and people.

David’s house is made of science. The walls are the known and the foundation the unknown. His house does not have a roof, but it is unclear if there are any doors or windows. Either way, he stays safely inside it, kept warm by ideas and folded securely into questions.

Science is understandable and worth understanding. People and the workings of society are not.

“ _What is infinite? The universe and the greed of men._ ” The philosopher that wrote these words talked of amplifiers and the reasons why Grisha can only ever possess one.

Alina Starkov read it and thought of power. She wasn’t the only one.

But when David read it, his mind caught on the vastness of the universe. He held the idea close to his heart while his mind slipped over the other half the way a stream slips over a pebble. For what does David know of greed? He does not desire in the same way that most men do. Or if he does, the want is small and easy to ignore.

There is a hunger in David. An urge to learn. A need to understand. Where some chase love, power, or money, he is only focused on knowledge. His high is not found in the fight or between the sheets, it is in the revelations, in the workings of the universe.

~*~

When he was a small child, the Grisha Examiners came to test him. One wore red, another wore purple, and the third wore blue. They knocked on the door and asked his mother where he was. With the exasperation of a person who had long stopped trying to understand her son she pointed them to the backyard. The examiners found him with his hands deep in the mud.

Where other children might have been searching for worms, making mud pies, or just digging for the sake of digging, David was trying to figure out why the ground became soft when it rains but the rocks remain hard. He had asked his mother, but she only shook her head and said that it was just the way things were.

The three grisha walked up to him, however the boy did not notice even when they called out a greeting.

The one who wore blue tilted his head in contemplation. And it wasn’t until the he reached down to still the boy’s searching hands that David looked up.

The one who wore red hesitated, knowing that she would also have to reach out to the child to see if he had the ability they sought, but not wanting to get mud on her kefta.

The one who wore purple smiled to himself, already knowing that the boy was different.

After determining that David was in fact Grisha, the man in blue started to give him the usual talk, but he had only unusual responses in return.

“You will have the finest clothes, the finest food, whatever your heart desires,” he said. “Would you like that?”

“Not really.” David replied, his hands already back to shifting through the soil.

The woman in red frowned as she dusted some stray mud from the edge of her sleeve. “And just what are you doing?” She asked him.

With the exasperation of a person who is used to being interrupted by people who never understand him, he explained.

The young man in purple smiled and knelt before David, not caring about the mud. “And what if I told you that the place we want to take you to will answer all of your questions and more? You will learn more in your first year with us than you would in a lifetime with your parents.”

And so it was not promises of sweets or warm furs that brought David to the Little Palace, but the promise of knowledge and answers to his questions.

Yet after years of learning, there is a question that shifts around uneasily in the back of his mind. He doesn’t dare ask it though, because for the first time in his life he isn’t sure if he wants to know the answer.

“Why does Genya Safin spend so much time in the Materialki workshops when she is not a Durast or Alkemi?”

It is a question that doesn’t fit into the categories that David has divided his world into, yet he has it nonetheless. He is used to being confused about the actions of others around him. What he is not used to is caring.

~*~

Genya leans over his workbench and runs her finger along a blueprint he had been working on. She is closer to him that anyone has been in a long time, but David finds that he doesn’t mind. She smells nice, like some kind of flower and marzipan.

“Wouldn’t this work better if you reversed the polarities?” She asks.

“No.” David doesn’t bother to explain. It only ever slows him down.

She crosses her arms, “Why not?”

With an unrestrained sigh he starts to explain it to her, but halfway through he pauses realizing that she is actually correct. For the first time in hours he looks up from his workbench. She smiles in her victory and David’s stomach seems to drop suddenly, like a meniscus on a burette with an open tap. He doesn’t mind the feeling.

His eyes drop back to the blueprint, but the titrant has already been dispensed from the burette and the resulting solution’s pH has changed. For once he has no idea what it means.

~*~

The Darkling also visits David and asks him questions about his work. They are educated questions and sometimes they lead David along new and unexpected paths. He is excited at the new directions, but for some reason the questions also tend to put him on edge.

One day the Darkling wants to speak of amplifiers. He gives David new knowledge of things that should be impossible, lays out theories that aren’t in any of the books he’s read. The ideas are madness and yet at the same time they make sense. David mulls them over, and though the Darkling doesn’t mention Ilya Morozova by name, he finds himself knowing intuitively where the the theories came from. He has had heard rumors passed around by other Materialki and his sharp mind immediately makes the connections.

The Darkling wants David to make an amplifier like no other. However, great power comes at a cost and in this case the price is freedom.

The Darkling assures David that he would control the wearer’s power only if it were absolutely necessary. He claims that he doubts it would ever come to that.

David sketches out a collar made of antlers and remembers one of Ilya Morozova’s names, the Bonesmith. A voice in the back of his head whispers _merzost_. He ignores it.

For what does David know of greed? He knows that the universe is infinite, but he has not yet learned of the limitlessness of man’s greed. He has not yet realized his own greed in his unrelenting thirst for knowledge.

~*~

David can’t meet Alina’s eyes. Her shoulders are hunched, angling her away from the Darkling, yet she still stands tall, defiant. He doesn’t know why.

She says his name in her plea, “Don’t do this.” David has never been begged before. He glances at her for a moment, but his eyes can’t hold hers and he hurriedly looks away.

The Darkling speaks, “David understands the future.”

He thought that he did, but the wide panic of Alina’s eyes contrasted with the narrowed anger of the Darkling’s makes him uncertain. The Darkling had promised him that he would only control Alina’s powers if necessary. For the good of Ravka.

One girl for the good of Ravka. David knows statistics better than most, but even if he didn’t the situation would still be clear. What is one person for an entire country?

“He knows better than to fight it.” The way the Darkling speaks grates on him. How many times have people told him that he should know better because he is so smart? All his life people have used his intellect as an insult against him when his perfectly rational actions offend them for some reason.

But fighting wouldn’t be rational and he isn’t planning on fighting anyways. So why does he feel insulted? Why does the Darkling’s voice feel like a dagger at his throat?

David stands behind Alina’s right shoulder and waits. She flinches when the Darkling’s fingers graze her skin to hold the stag’s antlers around her neck.

David melts the pieces together with a slow wave of his hands. The inorganic minerals knit together until the collar is one seamless piece of bone.

_The Bonesmith._

Disgust churns in his stomach, but he has already finished something that cannot be undone. He lets the collar fall from his fingers and whispers. “It’s done.”

The Darkling closes his fingers over Alina’s left shoulder and the night shatters around them. Light pours from her, bright and intense, radiating out in every direction. Wave after wave, each more unnecessary than the last.

“ _What is infinite? The universe and the greed of men._ ”

~*~

The Darkling lied.

~*~

David sits at his workbench as the days flow around him, people die, and allegiances shift until a collared women sits across from him. She rests on the same stool that Genya used to use. He wonders where she is, but as with most questions regarding Genya Safin, David is too afraid to ask.

Alina asks him what he knows and the way she speaks reminds him of the Darkling, but he tells her the truth anyways. David hasn’t learned very much about people, but he knows enough to recognize the hurt in her eyes when he tells her that he knew she would become a slave.

David’s allegiances never shifted. He has always been for Ravka, for others. But he put his faith in the wrong person. He struggles to tell her this. He has never been very good with words.

“I make things. I don’t destroy them.” The Materialki says as he stares at his ink soaked hands. They might as well be stained with blood. Distantly his mind reminds him that they both contain iron.

She sits there for a while, contemplating his words, and David waits for her judgement. He doesn’t think he has ever looked away from his work for this long while in the workshop. A deep aching part of him wishes that it was Genya he was spending his time looking at.

But it turns out that Alina has no judgement, or at least none that she expresses. She merely wishes him luck on his current project as she turns to leave.

David hunches over his papers again. “I don’t believe in luck.” He says and he means it. Or at least, he knows that he used to mean it. Because if luck can keep Genya safe wherever she is then he hopes that she has more than her share of it.

~*~

He is working on the rooftop when Alina decides she has more questions to ask of him. The gigantic mirrored dishes he is making are slow going and frustrating in a way no other project has been for him. There isn’t enough time. Not enough time to make them and make them right. And never enough time for them to be ready for the Darkling’s return.

He thinks she wants to ask more things about Ilya Morozova and he snaps at her. He doesn’t mean to; he has been trying to work on the way he speaks with others. Genya used to mumble under her breath when she thought that David wasn’t paying attention or being purposefully obtuse. She wanted him not just to talk to others, but to make sure that he properly explained things, including himself.

Instead Alina asks if her collar can be removed. But the cost of her power is still freedom. To break it would be to kill her and all of Ravka, if not the world. The potential catastrophic results would make the Fold look like a paper cut.

He wonders why she has not asked him sooner. He wonders why she is asking him now. Doesn’t she know that if the collar could be removed that David would have offered to do so?

“Oh.” She responds softly. Her eyes are haunted and David knows that he has played a role in that. That it is not just the Darkling’s greed for power that has led them here. It is also David’s greed for knowledge.

Alina takes a bottle of ink from his hands that he doesn’t remember picking up to fiddle with. She finally gives him her judgement. “If you hadn’t done it, the Darkling would have found someone else.”

It is neither the judgement he expected nor the one he thought he deserved. It is forgiveness. David wonders how he ever thought that the way Alina speaks reminded him of the Darkling.

She sets the ink down, out of his reach, and for some reason he knows that now is his chance, maybe his only chance. He asks a question about Genya Safin.

“I heard…” He stutters a little, “I heard that Genya was on the ship. With the Darkling.”

“Yes.” Alina responds simply and without elaboration. David suddenly realizes how annoying his own short responses must be. No wonder Genya mumbled under her breath.

“She’s all right?”

“I don’t know. She was when we escaped.” The woman seemed to hesitate over something before finally saying. “I begged her to come with us.”

“But she stayed?”

Alina nods and David’s heart hurts. How had they found themselves on opposite sides of a war?

“I don’t think she felt like she had a choice.”

David knows that feeling.

“I should have…” What? What should he have done? He wasn’t sure, but he knew that he could have done more.

“We do the best we can.” Alina offers.

David’s eyes return to his work and he frowns. Maybe other people did the best they can, people like Alina. But David definitely hasn’t.

~*~

The glass dishes work.

They are terrifyingly destructive and David made them.

_I make things to destroy._

The crowd of Grisha cheer.

~*~

There wasn’t enough time. The warning bells sounded and even though the dishes were ready, there still wasn’t enough time. The _nichevo’ya_ are on them in seconds and without Alina the dishes lie there, useless. Two of the _nichevo’ya_ knock a dish off the roof. One of the fabrikators goes with it. Paja. She had been smart, useful, patient.

She screams as she falls and David thinks it is the worst sound he had ever heard. But then there is the sound of shattering glass, magnified by the gigantic size of the object breaking, and Paja stops screaming. David realizes that the silence where there should be noise, should be life, is actually the worst sound.

He had been standing in a daze since the warning bells sounded, but now he leaps into action and throws an explosive _grenatki_.

 _I make things to destroy_.

For the past few weeks a riffle has been strapped to his back and David has hated every minute of it. Now he awkwardly shifts it into his hands and does his best to hold back the unstoppable.

“David!” Alina arrives to the roof and even though it is too late, even though one dish is nowhere near as powerful as two, he signals the Grisha operating the dish anyways. The blast is stronger than he thought it would be and he realizes that it is actually Alina who is stronger.

He thought that he had seen the depth of her powers in the woods when the Darkling used it without restraint. Something in the back of his mind does not quite add up, but even David finds it hard to do sums amidst this chaos.

Scorching beams cut through the shadows. It is still no use. People die. His friends die. People who he grew up with, knew for most of his life, are snuffed out and there is nothing he can really do to stop it.

They retreat from the roof.

Inside the Little Palace they try their best to plan, but David knows statistics and he sees no likelihood of a good outcome. Even Alina warns them that the odds aren’t good. For some reason this almost calms him and he suddenly finds himself speaking. “At least with the _nichevo’ya_ it will be relatively quick. I say we go down fighting.”

The other grisha look at him in a surprise that reflects his own shock.

_I do not make things to destroy. I make things to survive._

He turns to Alina and looks her in the eyes, “We do the best we can.”

He is almost calm, because he is finally doing the best he can. He isn’t just sitting in the workshop as everything else passes him by. He is throwing _grenatki_ , he is running, he is shooting, _he is fighting_.

His heart beats to the memory of Genya’s laughter.

In the chapel Alina and the Darkling argue over the fate of the world. He sees the ebb and flow of greed between them and hopes that Alina won’t be sucked under by its current.

And then, for a moment, the world stops it rotation around its axis, around the sun, around the galaxy’s center. David wouldn’t have thought it possible, would have frowned at the very suggestion of it and immediately launched into a detailed explanation of gravitational rotation.

However, the Darkling places his hand on a hooded woman’s shoulder and says, “Show them,” and the resulting action causes everything to stop. The shawl falls away from Genya’s face and even David’s heart stills for just a moment.

There is a loud moan and David realizes that it’s coming from him. Gravitational rotation returns with a vengeance and David stumbles. He runs forward and ignores everything but Genya. He reaches for her and she _flinches_.

David hesitates, not wanting to hurt her any more than she has already has been. She is covered in bite marks, raised black ridges of flesh and twisting lumps of tissue. Genya starts to cry with the only eye she has left to cry with. David wraps her into him and slowly leads her away.

The Darkling could kill him at any moment, strike him down in an instant, David doesn’t care.

~*~

They call her _Razrusha’ya_ , the Ruined.

David has no idea what they mean.

~*~

She is crucible steel, a complex mixture of iron, sand, and ashes heated by petroleum coke until it forms a heterogeneous molten liquid. When it cools it doesn’t set uniformly, instead there is a varied pattern like wood grain. Some places are worn away to become smooth, bright, and shimmer in the light. Other places are sharpened to an edge. There are also cracks. Some are large, obvious weak points. Others are hard to see, but still present and dangerous. There are parts of her welded together in her best attempt to remain whole.

She is crucible steel and she is beautiful. He spends more time with her than anyone else. The rest are too fast for her. He stays behind and as he supports her unsteady steps he analyzes her composition. He marvels at her fundamental strength, but he also marvels at her weaknesses. He catalogs every crack, fracture, and embrittlement. He examines the weld points and wonders at the heat that must have been generated to make them.

~*~

He hates the caves for a different reason than everyone else. They can’t stand the tight spaces, the lack of sunlight, the rumbling of the earth settling, or the feeling of being buried alive. He hates the caves because they are damp.

Moisture kills books, degrades them, and blackens them with mold. He finds Ilya Morozova’s journals, the discovery of a lifetime, cruelly piled in puddles of rot. Pages are torn, spines are bowed, priceless information is lost forever.

He shrieks, “You can’t. . . you can’t have kept Morozova’s journals in here. It’s a bog!”

His eyes go wide in horror, but as he looks around nobody seems to care as much as him. The Apparat with his priest guards shrug and, though his fellow students look grim, they say nothing.

David thinks that he might cry.

A tentative hand rests on his arm as Genya offers him comfort. He is reminded that knowledge is not as important as people, that his greed is in knowledge, that his knowledge has led to others’ deaths.

He is reminded that Morozova’s knowledge has killed countless people and irrevocably broken his country’s back.

David regains his composure, and though he mutters under his breath, he puts the lives of the people in these caves over the lives of the books. He throws himself into his work, but it is not with abandon.

~*~

“What in the world has happened to your hair?” Genya asks him in horror.

“I cut it.” David replies. He frowns, _wasn’t that obvious?_

“Why?”

“It kept falling in my eyes, costing me time to push it back. So I got rid of it.”

Her horrified face quivers for a moment and David is worried that he has hurt her, but then she bursts out laughing.

“Come here.” She sits him down on a chair with its back to her. Gentle fingers comb through his hair and he closes his eye with content at the feeling. The soft scraping sounds of a pair of scissors fills the air and he can feel the tickle of hair falling free from his head.

When she is done she hands him a mirror. He can’t really tell a difference. It’s just hair. But it is worth it for her smile.

“We are never letting you near another pair of scissors again.”

“… But I need them for my work.”

~*~

David keeps better care of his watch than he does of himself. He may not care so much about the rise and fall of the sun above them, but the others do and he cares about them. At one point it becomes clear that Tolya needs to be able to tell time more than him if their plan is going to work. He gives the watch to him.

~*~

Since the night of the attack on the Little Palace, David has learned about Alina’s fetter. Stray pieces of the puzzle that he did not know were missing suddenly come together. He pours over the journals to learn just how the impossibility of two amplifiers for one grisha has come to exist.

“ _What is infinite? The universe and the greed of men._ ”

He knows she will go for a third amplifier.

~*~

He develops a salve for Genya to help her wounds heal and to relieve her pain. It also lessens her scarring, but he doesn’t particularly care about that. He is just happy that it makes Genya happy.

When they first came to the caves she locked herself away. He tried to lure her out and so did Alina, but nothing worked. It wasn’t until Tamar challenged her into combat practice that she finally left her room. A part of David wished that he had been the person to bring her out of that darkness, but the part was small and inconsequential compared to the rest of him that was overjoyed that she had come out at all.

She continues to keep her face covered, but David knows that she is stronger than that. Maybe not now, maybe not for a while, but one day she will walk without shame.

He hopes that she will let him walk beside her.

~*~

Alina gives him the options to stay in the caves, to hide away in the archives while they go to search for the firebird, to be safe from the fight. He doesn’t even consider it.

But he brings the journals with him.

~*~

The tunnel explodes and collapses around them.

“ _Metan yez._ ” David informs them, explosive marsh gas.

They almost lose Sergei and Stigg. Once they get them out everyone sits on the ground and breaths uneasily.

“Everyone okay?” Mal asks.

“Never better.” Replies Genya, but her words shake.

David raises his hand. “I’ve been better.”

Everyone starts to laugh and David isn’t sure why. This happens to him a lot, but this time he is able to laugh with them. He knows that they are his friends and that they aren’t truly laughing at him.

He wouldn’t have known that a year ago.

~*~

David is almost killed on multiple occasions, slowed down by the weight of Morozova’s journals in his pack.

He keeps it on.

~*~

Prince Nikolai comes to their rescue. David has always liked him, smart and invested in knowledge and discovery. He takes them to the spinning wheel, each mode of transport more inventive than the last. David is more excited that he has been in a while.

And then the King demands to see Genya.

She looks faint and her eye is widened like a corned animal. He doesn’t know why, but Alina does. She takes Genya aside and builds her up. When she returns she takes David’s hand in hers. He looks at her questioningly, but he is unsure what his question is. Even if he did, he guesses that he would be afraid to ask it.

She stands before the King and Queen of Ravka and though she trembles, she stands tall.

She is crucible steel.

She trembles and she is beautiful.

Genya gives explanations for her cracks and fractures, glances at David then looks away in shame. He never wants her to look at him that way again, never wants her to be afraid of his judgment.

The King pauses in front of Genya and David has never hated a man more, even the Darkling. It is irrational, that he should care more about what one man has done to one woman than he cares about what another man has done to a country. But David is learning that the world is not a rational place.

“At least now you look like what you truly are, ruined.” The word from the King’s lips hits her like a slap.

Mal raises his fists, Tamar’s hands move to her axes, and Toya growls. David’s doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe. He has no weapon. He suddenly wishes that he had his rifle from the Little Palace slung over his shoulder. If he did, he would shoot the monster in the bladder. He would live, but he would also suffer under the pain and embarrassment.

Genya halts the other’s movements with her hand and somehow holds herself even higher. She whispers something in his ear and the King of Ravka pales before her in fear.

“I hope that the taste of me was worth it.”

David doesn’t know what he hopes.

She is crucible steel, but she sags when the King and Queen are finally gone.

David reaches for her and she shakes him off with a snarl. “Don’t!” She wipes at her lone eye, to prevent the tears that threaten to fall.

“I don’t want your pity. You don’t understand.” She covers her beautiful face with her hands, something she hasn’t done since the caves. “None of you do.”

David tries again, says her name softly, but she still lashes out, a cornered animal. “Don’t you dare. You never looked at me twice before I was like this, before I was broken. Now I’m just something for you to fix.”

He has never thought that she is broken, has never thought that she needed fixing. He saw her wounds, the cracks, the fractures, but he didn’t stand beside her to mend them. He knows that she can mend them herself, _has_ mended some of them herself. He has seen the welded parts of her soul and they are just as beautiful.

David has only ever wanted to stand beside her.

He is not good at words, but he tries anyways.

“I know metal.”

“What does that have to do with _anything_?”

“I… I don’t understand half of what goes on around me. I don’t get jokes or sunsets or poetry, but I know metal.” He looks at his fingers and reaches for the words. They are slightly stained from ink that will never fully wash off. They drip with blood that he has never touched directly, but was shed from his hands nonetheless.

“Beauty was your armor. Fragile stuff, all show. But what’s inside you? That’s steel. It’s brave and unbreakable. And it doesn’t need fixing.”

He steps forward, his gate awkward, and takes her face in his hands. One of his thumbs rolls over the raised edge of a scar. He leans in and kisses her.

Genya stiffens and David worries that he has hurt her. He thinks of the man she hated so much that she decorated herself in poison. But before he can withdraw she throws her arms around him.

The kiss burns, warmer than flames fueled by the purest petroleum coke. He can feel the metal of them welding together. His hands tangle in her hair and he revels in the soft lines of her body he pulls her flush against him.

David has loved Genya for a long time. He has not known what to call the emotion, has not known even what to do with it, but he has long ago given her his heart.

A throat clears, somebody whistles, and they break apart. David blushes furiously, Genya grins. He looks at her smile and it is not the same as it was all that time ago in the workshop. There is a stiffness to her lips that wasn’t there before and the corner of her mouth is blackened by one of her scars. But David’s stomach drops just like it did then.

The tap on the burette is twisted all the way open, the titrant’s meniscus falls, and the solution’s pH changes. He knows what it means now though.

Love.

~*~

David has new categories for his world. Just two. Things he knows and things he does not know. He no longer divides the world up by what he thinks he wants to know or is worth knowing. He doesn’t think that all things regarding people are to remain unsolved mysteries. He knows that science is not the most important thing.

Although it is still pretty far up there.

~*~

Genya holds him as he cries. How could an idea as harmless and good as _lumiya_ hold such potential for destruction? It was only ever meant to magnify Alina’s powers. The Darkling should never have been able to use it, especially not to expand the fold even further.

David had thought himself smart, creating a variation of liquid fire that was better, safer, than Morozova’s. A reaction that only creates light, not heat.

He had grown used to making weapons, things that wreaked destruction so that they could live. But this was just a stray idea, something with low potential for application… just for fun.

She strokes his hair and lets him know that she doesn’t blame him, nobody blames him, not really. But David blames himself. He knows that the blood on his hands has thickened.

His crime, his greed, is still in his hunger for knowledge.

~*~

The Darkling attacks them again, finding them at the Spinning Wheel where they thought they could be safe.

David stands over Genya as she kneels over Adrik in a pool of blood. He fires down at the attacking crowd. His aim is precarious, but he doesn’t care. He won’t stand down anymore.

It’s irrational, but David will die defending his friends, the people he loves.

The journals are left behind at the Spinning Wheel, but he doesn’t notice until they are safe again.

Or, as safe as they can be.

~*~

He explains the potential of invisibility for Alina. She makes a boot vanish. Genya whoops, Alina shrieks and throws her hands in the air.

“David, have I ever told you that you are a genius?

“Yes.”

“I’m telling you again.”

Later he wishes aloud that he still had Morozova’s journals. Alina gives him an odd look, like she wants to laugh, cry, and hit something all at once.

He thinks that he understands.

Ilya Morozova was also a genius.

~*~

Genya helps him make more _lumiya_ and blasting powders for flash-bombs and _grenatki_. There is something both unsettling and satisfying about weaponizing the _lumiya_. Even if it is only in a defense capacity, it will still be used against the man who twisted it to begin with.

They aren’t going into the final battle. David can’t tell if he is more relieved or ashamed. But the others convince him that he is better served with Genya and Misha. Plus, it isn’t like he hasn’t fought for them and this isn’t him running. David is following the orders of a commander he trusts.

He has terrible aim with a rifle anyways.

So he will outfit his friends the best he can, he will stay to help Genya keep Misha safe, he will continue to think and create.

Alina walks into the kitchen they have converted into a makeshift workshop. “Is this entirely safe?”

“Nothing is entirely safe.” David responds.

“How reassuring.” She replies flatly.

David smiles and it is a grim and sarcastic thing. “I’m glad.”

He is not sure when he learned sarcasm. But he knows when he learned that knowledge can be greed. It can also be twisted, abused, and used for harm.

But David was made for knowledge and its pursuit. So he will continue on, carefully and with the goal that his discoveries are only used to survive.

“ _What is infinite? The universe and the greed of men._ ”

He knows now that he has greed, but with that knowledge he will work to use his greed for good.

~*~

David holds onto Genya as they watch the shadows of the Fold fall. They do not know what has fully happened, they do not know who has lived. But David feels pride knowing that he helped to bring down the same thing that he accidently helped to expand.

The blackness of Genya’s scars fade away to only the barest traces of shadows.

He kisses her.

“You were beautiful in the workshops. You were beautiful when you removed your hood for the first time. You were beautiful when you trembled before a monster. You are beautiful now when we have fought and won a war. You are beautiful and you always will be.”

She rolls her eyes at him. David frowns in confusion. He knows he is bad with words, but he thought that he had done a good job this time. He guesses that he doesn’t understand poetry or romantic intentions as well as he thought he did. Which is to say, hardly at all.

“You know you can just say that you love me.” Genya laughs.

“Of course I love you.” He says plainly, but realizes that this must be his first time saying it aloud.

Her smile is bright enough that if she had turned it on the Fold, he is sure that it would have fallen to its knees. He knows he will.

“I love you too, you idiot.”

~*~

He is a genius and he is an idiot. He knows of greed and the universe. His hands have led to the death of many people, but they have led to the survival of more.

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope that you guys all enjoyed this! I've never written in this style, so it might be a bit clunky and awkward. I wrote this because I have been blocked on my other fics, but also because David is a fascinating character who deserves more attention! <3
> 
> If you see a typo, please let me know! Also, comments and kudos... cuz like yeah, I want the love.
> 
> Happy New Years! (Why is it 2018 already?)


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